The Clone Wars

by Lou Anders

  Lightsabers raised, we all raced out of his cell.

  We ran from cell to cell, releasing the pirates, and they swarmed behind us. None of them seemed to have any problem with the fact that they were now following us instead of trying to capture us. Pirates, it seemed, weren’t picky about who they called ally and who they called enemy. Glad we’re allies today, I thought.

  Hearing the commotion, battle droids jogged into the prison area. As we attacked, one of them shouted at a hologram of General Grievous that it held in its hand: “This is OOM-87, General. The prison area is under attack. There are several miniature Jedi here.”

  Flickering, Grievous’s image said, “What? You aren’t making any sense. What Jedi?”

  “Little ones! Half the size of normal Jedi! They’re freeing the prisoners and—My knees! Ahhh!”

  Petro and Zatt sliced the droid in half, and the hologram of Grievous clattered to the floor. We surged forward, rushing through the corridors.

  The building shook as if struck with a sudden groundquake—or, more likely, the cannons of a droid battle tank. Chunks of ceiling rained down on us, and the walls swayed. We put on extra speed and burst outside.

  I was right, I thought. Sneaking out is not going to happen.

  Row after row of battle droids were marching toward us. Each held a weapon at its waist and was firing. Super battle droids were advancing, as well, their arms raised to fire their wrist-mounted laser cannons. Red streaks of light flashed by as they kept firing.

  In the lead, Ahsoka spun through the air, lightsabers out. She sliced through several droids before her feet touched the ground, leaving behind the wreckage of sparking metal. We ran after her, swinging our lightsabers to deflect blasts and cut down droids. The pirates used blasters, except Hondo, who swung a steel sword as if it were a lightsaber.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I didn’t think.

  I felt the Force flow through me, and I let it—and my training—guide me.

  Launching myself into the air, I leapt onto the shoulders of a battle droid and sliced through its circuitry. As it fell, I landed in a crouch and smoothly cut through the legs of the next battle droid as Petro swung at its waist. It toppled, and both Petro and I stabbed our lightsabers directly into its circuits at the same time. It sparked, and we ran on.

  Ahead, the pirates jumped onto speeder bikes and revved their engines. I raced toward them and jumped on a bike behind Hondo.

  “I’ve got your back,” I told him.

  “Great!” he said. “I feel…so safe.”

  The hint of sarcasm in his voice didn’t faze me. I knew I would keep him safe. Just as I knew we’d escape. No almost this time.

  Glancing back, I saw Ahsoka, the other younglings, and Professor Huyang pile onto the pirate speeder tank piloted by the astromech droid R2-D2. We all sped away from the compound. Ahead, a battalion of battle droids pivoted to march toward us, and we plowed through them.

  Knowing the terrain, the pirates on speeder bikes, plus me, led the way, with the tank racing behind us. Only seconds behind them, droids chased us on their own speeders.

  We raced into narrow canyons that cut through the land. I leaned with Hondo as we took the curves and ducked beneath arches shaped like whale ribs.

  Looking over my shoulder again, I saw that General Grievous led the pursuit in a speeder powered by a podracer engine. This time, he was close enough that I could see his yellow reptilian eyes: horribly alive within his inanimate steel mask. I wasn’t going to let him catch us.

  “Faster!” I told Hondo.

  “Ah, yes, I had thought this a lovely pleasure ride, but perhaps you are correct.” He may have been teasing me, but he also increased speed. We zipped through the canyons.

  Ahead, one of the arches began to crumble. It cracked and split. The speeder bikes shot beneath the falling rocks. Looking back, I saw the speeder tank with Ahsoka and the others veer off into another canyon, followed by General Grievous and the droids.

  “They went the wrong way!” I called to Hondo.

  “Don’t worry,” he called back.

  He withdrew a remote from his coat and aimed it at a wall of rock below an old freighter that had crashed into the canyon. The rock wall slid down to reveal blast doors that opened to the sides. We zipped inside the hidden hangar.

  Various ships were parked within Hondo’s hangar—all different kinds, all most likely stolen. The pirates parked the speeder bikes and hurried toward a dirty white-and-red Firespray-class starship with an oval base. It looked ancient, but it had a lot of cannons mounted on it. The first pirate to reach it lowered the boarding ramp.

  I climbed off the bike and followed Hondo toward the ship. They couldn’t be…. They wouldn’t leave. Not after we’d freed them!

  “What about the others?” I asked. “We can’t just leave them!”

  Hondo started walking up the boarding ramp. “You are welcome to come, small one.” He flashed a smile at me. “You may join our merry band of pirates.”

  “I won’t just run away.” As I said it, I realized how true it was. Maybe I had spent the past few days running away a lot—from pirates, from droids, and from the fear that I’d never be who I wanted to be—but I was done with that now. The others needed me. They needed us. “Ahsoka trusted you. We all trusted you.”

  Halfway up the ramp, Hondo stopped and sighed.

  The pirate ship rose out of the canyons.

  “Now, small one!” Hondo called over the comlink.

  Hitting the control panel, I raised the door to reveal the boarding ramp. Wind slapped into me, and I held onto the inside of the ship as we hovered midair. The roar of the engines thundered in my ears. On the cliff below, I saw them.

  Five Jedi younglings with their lightsabers drawn, Padawan Ahsoka standing in front of them with her arms spread out protectively, and R2-D2 with Professor Huyang behind the Jedi. All of them were braced for battle, with their backs toward us, as they faced General Grievous.

  “Hurry!” I shouted to them. “Come on!”

  I saw Ahsoka turn to the others, and I saw her mouth shape the word run.

  The others pivoted and ran toward the cliff, the ship, and me.

  On the ground, Ahsoka drew her two lightsabers. General Grievous stalked toward her, and his two metal arms split into four. Four lightsabers blazed, one from each of his arms.

  They charged at each other. Grievous’s blades whirled in blurred circles. Ahsoka did a backflip and sliced. Their lightsabers hissed as they slammed into each other. Hearing tales of Ahsoka in action was one thing, but seeing it…She moved like a comet, relentlessly fast and jaw-droppingly strong.

  Using the Force, Ahsoka threw Grievous into the air. He stabbed his four lightsabers into the ground as he skidded backward, slowing himself and releasing a terrible, hacking cough.

  He launched himself at her. She flipped in the air, and they fought. Their lightsabers crossed again and again. My heart pounding fast and hard in my chest, I shouted to the others to run faster. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

  Grabbing her with his clawed feet, Grievous tossed Ahsoka into the air. She smashed down and rolled as he charged, his blades spinning fast. She kept rolling and then leapt onto her feet and met his four blades with her two.

  Zatt, Petro, Byph, Ganodi, and Gungi raced up the boarding ramp. Huyang jumped to safety after them, and R2-D2 used his boosters to fly over to the ramp.

  Just as they reached me, Ahsoka shoved hard against Grievous. She then vaulted onto his shoulders and flipped over him to land in a crouch facing us.

  “Ahsoka!” I called. “Come on!”

  She ran toward the cliff and the ship.

  Grievous charged after her.

  Reaching the edge, she jumped, sailed over the gap, and landed on the ramp. As soon as she reached us, I slammed my palm on the control panel. The door to the ramp slid shut.

  With the others, I raced up to the cockpit.

  At the helm, Hondo was firing blast a
fter blast from the ship’s cannons. The cliff was shrouded in dust and debris. I saw a flash of silver: Grievous, fleeing from the blasts, scuttling like a bug on all fours.

  “Did we get him?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell,” Petro said.

  Two droid battle tanks rose over the cloud of red-brown dust and began firing at us.

  Hondo tilted the steering column, and the ship reoriented to vertical. “Show’s over, kiddies,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  My last glimpse of the cliff was of General Grievous, standing in front of the tanks, his head tilted back as if he was howling at us in rage. And then we were facing the sky.

  We blasted off toward the stars.

  Safely back on a Republic command vessel, we gathered in a hangar around Hondo’s ship. He was discussing our adventures with Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi while we swapped stories about what we’d seen and done.

  “Believe me, Kenobi,” I heard Hondo say. “Staging a rescue is not an inexpensive proposition!” I wondered exactly how Hondo had been describing what had happened.

  Master Kenobi raised his very expressive eyebrows at him. “So you mean to tell me you were staging a rescue, not attempting to hijack a Jedi starship?”

  “You’re welcome!” Hondo spun away from Master Kenobi. His coat flared out dramatically around him. “Eh, the thanklessness! What an accusation!” He flapped his arm in the air as if dismissing the entire matter. “I am gone! I will send you my bill!”

  He stalked past us—Ahsoka, the droids, the other younglings, and me—and followed his pirates up the boarding ramp onto his ship. I watched him as he went.

  In a strange way, this pirate who had nearly killed us, certainly tried to capture us, and almost betrayed us felt like…well, like a new friend. He’d believed in me, and he’d listened to me. He’d seen what I’d been having so much trouble seeing: that almost a Jedi doesn’t mean never. It means someday. Someday soon. Pausing at the top of the ramp, Hondo looked back, met my eyes, and nodded at me. I nodded back at him.

  As the pirate ship flew from the hangar, Master Kenobi approached us. “Be proud,” he told us. “You’ve survived an ordeal few your age could.” Igniting his lightsaber, he held it low, its point toward us.

  Standing in a circle, we all drew our own lightsabers and lowered them until the points touched. It looked like a star of blue-and-green light.

  “Welcome home, young Jedi,” Master Kenobi said.

  I smiled at him, at my friends, and at my hero, Ahsoka Tano, and for the first time felt as if almost really was good enough.

  “THIS MESSAGE IS FOR OBI-WAN KENOBI. I’ve lost Mandalore. My people have been massacred. There’s no time to explain everything now. Obi-Wan…I need your help.”

  The holo flickered off, but Obi-Wan Kenobi remained focused on the projector in the center of the Jedi Council war room, as if by staring at it he could make it tell him more. The message was from Duchess Satine, leader of Mandalore. Her words were rushed and her normally regal bearing strained. Most disturbing of all, the transmission had ended with Mandalorian super commandos surrounding her, their blaster rifles drawn.

  Obi-Wan resisted the urge to charge out of the chamber, board a ship, and make the hyperspace jump to help his friend. He would listen to Yoda and Ki-Adi-Mundi, the Jedi Masters who’d summoned him to hear Satine’s message.

  Yoda was first to speak: “Your thoughts on this, Master Obi-Wan?”

  Obi-Wan paused to gather himself before reporting what he knew of the situation on Mandalore. “Satine has enemies. She’s dealt with the corruption of her prime minister, but she’s also been at odds with Death Watch for years. The duchess strives to maintain peace, while Death Watch has stooped to terrorist tactics to overthrow her. If there was a takeover on Mandalore, I’m sure Death Watch is responsible.”

  “Death Watch is a Mandalorian faction,” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said, his manner gentle. “That means this is an internal affair for Mandalore. I’m afraid we cannot help.”

  Obi-Wan could scarcely believe his ears. Had the master not just seen and heard the same holo?

  “We can’t just hand Mandalore over and let Satine become a martyr,” Obi-Wan protested.

  Ki-Adi-Mundi squared his shoulders. “I’m afraid her decision to keep Mandalore neutral makes this situation difficult.”

  “With respect, Master, we face difficult decisions every day. Everything about this war is difficult.”

  Yoda sighed. In sympathy or in frustration, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. “Understand your feelings I do, Obi-Wan. But to take action, support from the Republic Senate we will need.”

  Obi-Wan couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You know what the Senate will decide. They will not send aid to a neutral system.”

  Yoda closed his eyes. “At this time, nothing more can we do.”

  Obi-Wan took note of their regretful expressions. He composed his own face. “Yes, Masters,” he said. “I understand.”

  Slowly, calmly, he exited the chamber to begin disobeying their orders.

  Few in the bustling hangar took notice of Obi-Wan as he approached his Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor. Things would be different on Mandalore. The presence of a Jedi on a planet struggling to remain neutral in the war between the Republic and the Separatists would do more than attract attention. It might be considered an act of aggression. It might lead to further violence—more death.

  At least Obi-Wan would be disguised. He adjusted the sack on his shoulder, which contained the Mandalorian armor of Rako Hardeen, an identity he’d assumed during a recent mission. But there was nothing he could do to hide the identity of his ship.

  “Going somewhere, Master?”

  Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks. Reluctantly, he turned around.

  Anakin wore the exact smug smile Obi-Wan knew he would. But the smirk was balanced by the concern in his friend’s eyes.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  “Oh, you know, traveling clothes,” Obi-Wan said breezily. “One likes to be appropriately dressed for any occasion.”

  Anakin lowered his voice. “Including an unauthorized mission to Mandalore?”

  Obi-Wan waited for a mechanic to pass out of earshot. “I presume Padmé told you about Duchess Satine’s message to me?”

  “Yes, and how the Jedi Council refused your request to help her.”

  Obi-Wan frowned. Just hearing the words brought up a disturbing flash of anger. He took a calming breath.

  “It’s not like you to disobey an order, Master.”

  “This is…different, Anakin.”

  “I understand. If it were Padmé in trouble…”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Again, Anakin’s barely suppressed smile said something different than the grave look in his eyes. “Well, in any case, I’m coming with you.”

  Obi-Wan had foreseen this. Anakin was as close as a brother, and of course he wouldn’t let Obi-Wan face this mission alone. So Obi-Wan gave Anakin an answer crafted to convince him to stay behind.

  “The presence of one Jedi on Mandalore will be hard enough to conceal. Two Jedi will be impossible. You’d put the mission at risk. And Satine.”

  Obi-Wan watched the struggle on Anakin’s face: the thing he wanted to do versus the thing he needed to do. In the end, reason won out. This was much to Obi-Wan’s relief. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Anakin had decided the other way.

  “At least take my ship, Master.”

  “The Twilight? That bucket of bolts? I thought you liked me.”

  “Corellian freighters come and go from Mandalore by the dozens. She’s your best chance at landing unchallenged. Besides, the transponder’s malfunctioning, so you can leave Coruscant orbit without anybody noticing.”

  It was Obi-Wan’s turn to smirk. “Malfunctioning or deactivated on purpose?”

  Anakin shrugged with innocence. “Hey, you know the Twilight. She’s seen some heavy battles these last few weeks. It takes a toll.�
��

  “Thank you, Anakin.” He clasped his Padawan’s shoulder in farewell. Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened. He felt…something. A shadow. Perhaps the grip of fear for Satine he’d been trying to control. Or a flash of anger at the Council’s unwillingness to help her.

  “Master…?”

  Obi-Wan swallowed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Anakin nodded. “You do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting.”

  Anakin’s ship didn’t like Obi-Wan. Trying to land a piece of rubbish like the Twilight convinced him more than ever that flying was for droids. Smoke billowed from the portside engine and leaked into the cabin as Obi-Wan struggled to squeeze the ship through a gap in the great dome of Sundari, capital city of Mandalore. He set down on a loading dock, but before he could congratulate himself on surviving the landing, a power junction centimeters from his face erupted in a death cough of sparks and flames.

  “Anakin,” he grumbled. “That’s the last time I borrow a ship from you.” At least the flames hadn’t singed his beard.

  He fitted Rako Hardeen’s helmet over his head and made his way down the landing ramp. A Mandalorian in the red-and-black armor of a super commando approached. He was fully outfitted with missiles, explosives, a blaster, and best of all, code cylinders. This was an opportunity for a disguise upgrade.

  “Do you have a landing permit?” barked the commando.

  Obi-Wan made a show of checking his pouches. “Um, I think I left it in my ship. Come with me and I’ll get it.”

  The commando paused a moment and then followed Obi-Wan up the ramp.

  Why did they always fall for that? Obi-Wan almost felt sorry for him.

  Moments later, he came back down the ramp, wearing the unconscious commando’s armor.

  Obi-Wan landed the commando’s stolen speeder on the top-level landing platform of the prison complex. Prisoner transfers were handled there, and half a dozen guards stood watch. Obi-Wan walked up to a pair of them as if it was something he did several times a day. He handed over his code cylinder.